


the Shave

by deekelly (Muldersmoodring)



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Blood mentioned, F/M, My first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muldersmoodring/pseuds/deekelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie doesn’t shave his beard. He trims it every once in awhile to keep it from getting too long, but other than that, he likes to let his facial hair be. His beard has been with him since high school. He’s had it his entire adult life.</p>
<p>Well, his whole life except for a few unavoidable… gaps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the Shave

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction so i'm not super comfortable with the characters yet. I'm a little bit rusty but i'm trying to get back into writing so the rhythm is a bit off. I wrote this in 2 hours at midnight and nobody has looked at it but me, so... yeah. Anyway, i hope you enjoy my first attempt at fanfiction. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Charlie was still dozing when Dee opened her eyes that morning. He seemed to be sleeping soundly, her blanket tucked all the way up to his chin. They’d fallen asleep nestled together, but had untangled during the night. Dee spent a few sweet seconds allowing herself to stare contentedly at him before she shook off the lingering drowsiness and slid out of bed. She badly needed coffee. She couldn’t handle Charlie in the morning without it.  
Neither Dee nor Charlie could be considered morning people. People who work in bars rarely are. In the mornings, Dee tended to be annoyed by everything and Charlie lost all sensitivity. They usually had their worst fights in the mornings.  
Dee put a pot of coffee on and glanced at the clock: 10:48. She slumped down in a chair and put her head in her hands. She was badly hungover, but that certainly wasn’t anything new. 

******  
She was halfway through her second cup of coffee when Charlie stumbled into the kitchen. He mumbled something incoherent as he sloppily poured himself his own cup. He groaned as he sat down across from Dee. She looked up at him briefly before letting her head slump back into her hands. God, she was tired. She was always tired.   
“How’d ya sleep?” Charlie asked her, his voice thick with exhaustion. He zoned out behind his coffee mug as Dee began to answer, before being struck with a sudden thought. “-Whatever, Nevermind. You’ll never believe this dream I had last night.” He began. Dee groaned. God, she hated being interrupted. Charlie is the worst listener in the world. He began to launch into another tirade about Wermhatt and the biplane, and Dee’s head started throbbing. She didn’t think she could handle this story, not when Charlie’s voice grew more and more grating with every shrill syllable.   
“Shut up, Charlie!” She finally snapped. Charlie looked like he hadn’t even realized Dee was in the room.   
“Fine, whatever.” He muttered, staring forlornly at his quickly cooling coffee cup. Dee didn’t bother with a response, and they fell into a familiar awkward silence.   
“You ever thought about shaving your beard, Charlie?” Dee finally asked, unwilling to let the silence sit. She didn’t even know why she asked. It wasn’t like his beard especially bothered her or anything. In fact, she kind of liked the ticklish feeling of the short, scruffy hairs scratching her neck when they kissed. But she’d already blurted it out, and she had to commit. “I mean, you’ve had it since high school. Don’t you ever miss the feeling of a clean shave?”   
Charlie slid his chair back instinctively and crossed his arms across the black stallion on his T-Shirt. “Nope,” he said coldly. He didn’t make eye contact with Dee.  
“Fine, God, you don’t have to be so weird about it.” Dee replied, forcing out a chuckle. But she couldn’t let it lie. “You must at least think about it. I’ve never even seen you touch a razor.” She prodded.  
“Yeah, because I don’t touch them, Dee!” Charlie let out a long, frustrated groan, before standing up suddenly. “I’m going to get dressed.”  
Dee rolled her eyes. “Dressed? Charlie, you showed up at my doorstep at 11:30 last night in that exact outf-” But she couldn’t finish her sentence before her bathroom door slammed shut. 

*****

“Charlie, it’s been fifteen minutes, time to get out of there. I need to brush my teeth,” Dee whined. The bathroom door swung open and Charlie poked his head out.  
“Well that’s too bad, because I’m using your toothbrush.” Charlie stepped back inside the bathroom and started vigorously brushing his teeth… with Dee’s toothbrush.  
“Oh Goddammit!” Dee cried out, following Charlie into the bathroom. “That is absolutely disgusting, you filthy animal!” Charlie grinned at her, toothpaste covering his lips, and spit a worrying amount of blood into the sink. “Oh God, Charlie, how often do you brush your teeth?” Charlie continued to spit blood and toothpaste into the sink.   
“The normal amount,” he began defensively. Dee snatched her toothbrush from him and promptly threw it in the trash can.   
“Well, that is definitely not a normal amount of blood,” Dee said. She fought back a gag as Charlie grinned a minty, bloody smile at her.   
“Shut up, bird.” He smirked, pleased with himself for disturbing Dee.   
“Oh, you… you... “ Dee balled up her fists and let out an frustrated shout. “You idiot!”   
Charlie laughed, proud of himself, and sat down on the rim of Dee’s bathtub. “I am going to get you back for this.” She said, opening her medicine cabinet.   
“Sure, whatever Dee…” Charlie said. He had gotten distracted by a clump of hair in Dee’s shower drain when she came flying at him, a bright pink stick in her hand. She barrelled into him and they both tipped backwards into the bathtub. They ended up in a pile in the tub, Dee on top, frantically shoving her pink stick in his face. She was moving fast, and Charlie was dazed by the fall. Dee pulled back and looked down at him as he blinked dazedly. She smirked at him and climbed out of the bathtub.   
“Gotcha!” she announced victoriously, placing her pink stick back in the medicine cabinet. “It really was about time for a shave.” She hurried out of the bathroom and Charlie’s hand went flying to his face. A huge chunk of beard had gone missing, and he could feel blood leaking from a scrape where the razor had caught at his skin. He climbed out of the bathtub and stood in front of the mirror. The left side of his face was bloody and the right was smeared with toothpaste. A large patch of hair on his left cheek was missing, and clumps had been jaggedly cut here and there on the entire left half of his face. He looked like he had been groomed by a barber with a hook for a hand.  
Breathing fast and forcefully, Charlie splashed water on his face and rinsed his mouth out. He used Dee’s clean white towel to soak up some blood and toothpaste and burst out of the bathroom, ramming the door to Dee’s bedroom open. She was in the middle of getting dressed. He grabbed her arm and she turned around, smirk still on her face.   
“You bitch! You crazy bitch!” Charlie shouted at her.   
“You asked for it!” She shouted back. She refused to act like she was scared, even though Charlie was still gripping her arm. He let out a scream, his face inches away from hers, and she smelled iron and soap on his breath. Her arm began to throb, but she steeled herself. She wasn’t going to let Charlie win this round.   
In their decades long friendship, and slightly less long sexual relationship, Dee and Charlie had had about as many screaming matches as warm beers. Dee was due for a win some time soon, and she knew she could at least outlast Charlie, who got tired much faster than her. She looked him straight in the eyes and she could see the anger slowly draining from them. Typical. Dee realised then that she was only wearing her bra and a pair of jeans. She smiled and silently dared Charlie to let his gaze drift down to her chest.   
She felt his grip on her arm loosen, and she let herself relax. She’d won. They were standing just inches apart. Dee stared down at Charlie. He was breathing deeply, blood beginning to clot on his cheek. His lips were bright red and his eyes gleamed as they slid down Dee’s body. They were both breathing rapidly, hearts racing. Dee felt a swell of emotion rise up in her chest as Charlie shifted from foot to foot, still not backing away. Anger and desire were entwined inside of her, melted together to form a passion that was pumping through her veins and giving her goosebumps. Charlie’s hand finally left her arm and floated down to rest at her hip, and she felt his thumb hook the waistband of her jeans tentatively. She leaned down to kiss him and smiled when the remains of his beard scraped against her face.


End file.
